


In the Middle of the Night

by flowerdust



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Bottom Jared, Hurt Jared, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rich Jensen, hooker!Jared
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 22:30:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9569597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerdust/pseuds/flowerdust
Summary: Maybe opposites do attract.





	

**Author's Note:**

> haha this sucks! enjoy :) leave a comment and make my day,,, maybe?

He's 17, and he's lying, face forward on the bed, a pillow between his teeth, and his eyes squeezed tight. The man on top of him is grunting, holding both of his hands around his neck, paralyzing him.

"Fucking tight ass bitch," The man slurs. An aroma of vodka and cigarettes are lingering in Jared's throat, stinging, and he's crying, even though he promised himself he wouldn't, "I'm gonna make you bleed, fuck you till you can't walk." He's thrusting hard into him, bouncing his body on top of his, jostling him with every move. Jared thinks he'll never finish, he's sure he'll die this way and no one will ever find him.

Two more painful thrusts and the man groans. _Finally. Finally_ , is Jared's only thought as the man pulls out of him, rough and carelessly — he hits him on his ass and says, "You cried over that? Pussy." He feels a sudden wetness on his naked back, and he knows it's spit. He wants to say something, but he's too weak, so he curls up and listens to the door slam shut behind him.

Three years he's been living though this, three years living through practical suicide, and for some, ridiculous reason, he's still here, suffering through it. He doesn't know why. He doesn't know why he puts so much effort into caring anymore, when it all just wastes away.

He gets up and whimpers, wraps a hand around his stomach and forces himself not to cry — what good does that do anyway?

Slipping on his shirt isn't as bad as slipping on his jeans. There's blood dripping down his legs; he sighs and grabs a wad of toilet paper from the bathroom to stuff into his boxer breifs. He has to go back into this, back into wondering if he'll make it out of the next one alive, the next customer who'll beat him half to death or push his lifeless body to the curb. Dumping him like garbage. Throwing him away like he means nothing.

Jared ignores his pondering thoughts and steps into the cold, February air. He walks back to where he came from and waits.

 _Let the next one be better,_ he prays. Maybe someone would listen.

Jensen is tapping his foot impatiently, and anxiously looking at the gold rolex watch on his wrist. _Half past ten_ , it read, in angry numbers, taunting him.

"Oh, shut up," Jensen scoffs, "He'll call, he always calls."

Sipping on a bottle of Grey Goose Magnum, he's enjoying the burn it leaves behind. Justin is settled comfortably in the back of his mind, brown eyes glimmering, a sharp, white smile he's holding proud on his face, freshly shaven beard, naked. Justin, who was _supposed_ to call, who _promised_ he would, but now the clock gives a rebellious twitch, as the numbers read back again: 11:00pm. Jensen gripes, "Whatever," and gets up on his tired feet. He needs to get out for a little while or he's going to go completely insane.

The Lamborghini is waiting there for him, boasting it's beautiful black exterior, it's blue streaks bragging, offhandedly. He's humming as he runs his fingers softly over the car. Gorgeous, still gorgeous, even through all the years he's had it, it still excites him just as much as it did the first day he got it.

He drives and doesn't plan on stopping.

  
Lynyrd Skynyrd is playing on low in the background, but he hums along just the same, taps his thumb aimlessly along the steering wheel, whistling faintly. He's stopped at a light that doesn't seem to want to change. It's glinting in the dark of night, showing off the old, derelict buildings around him. He isn't sure how he ended up here, but the light still isn't changing so he stays.

It's a tapping on his window that jolts him. There's a boy with long, shaggy hair and bruises marking his skin, looking at him. His clothes look raggy and torn, and Jensen doesn't know why, for the life of him, roll down the window, but he does, and the boy greets him with a dimpled smile.

"Hey, you need a ride or something?" He asks and the boy nods back, "sure," then plops himself in Jensens car like that's where he belonged.

The light finally turns so Jensen drives.

"Where to?"

"Wherever you want."

Jensen grunts, and looks over to the kid, who couldn't be more than 16, and shake his head, "you wanted a ride, so where to?"

The boy hums, "You're pretty, so I'll make you a deal — $200 for the whole night, and you can do whatever you want to me."

 _Oh_ , it finally hits him, _Oh god, what has he gotten himself into?_

  
Jensen slams on the breaks, "You're a hooker? What the hell, get out!" The kid flinches, but ignores Jensen. He climbs eagerly on top of him, his soft lips nipping at his neck, "But I can be good for you. Make you feel important." Jensen grips the boy roughly by the arms and pushes him off of him, he falls into the passenger seat with a thud and starts crying.

"Please," he sobs, "don't hurt me, please. I'll go, I promise." Jensen stands there, frozen, blood draining from his face.

"Wait," he tells him, in a gentle voice, "did someone hurt you?" The boy just nods and holds his stomach. Jensen feels like puking.

"Okay, I'm gonna take you home with me, alright? And I'll pay you or whatever, but no sex. That's not what I want from you." The boy nods again so Jensen takes that as a plus, breaths out a heavy sigh and turns the radio up. Simple Man is playing like a lullaby.

The kid curls up in the seat, head resting on his knees, sniffling quietly.

Jensen reaches in the back for his coat and drapes it around thin shoulders, "It's going to be okay. You'll see." It's spoken like a promise but Jensen isn't sure if it's one he can trust himself to keep.


End file.
